


Special

by EsculentEvil



Series: EsculentEvil's BatJokes Shots [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, The LEGO Batman Movie (2017)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsculentEvil/pseuds/EsculentEvil
Summary: Batman didn’t really forget their first meeting's anniversary; he’s justscareda closet romantic.Originally posted to my Tumblr @esculentevil





	Special

**Author's Note:**

> Set after  _[Joking Mirrors 1: Little Laugh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611794/chapters/38936189#workskin)_  because ~~we~~  I needed closure.

Batman did not forget.

Even before he finally admitted that he hated the Joker more so than any other baddie or villain, even before Barbara became Batgirl and Dick became Robin and Alfred became the Creepy Throw-back Batman  ~~again~~ , even before he realized just how little Superman and his Super Friends all cared about him: he had  **never**  once forgotten. Why? Simple: forgetting would just be impossible.

To forget the rush of locking eyes through two very different masks (a red hood and a false face) or the prickling horror of watching a man get executed in front of him; to forget the spark of recognition during their second first meeting when the white skin and green hair almost didn’t equate to the red menace of before or the sheer  **thrill**  of having all that dark intent and crazy purpose on  **him**  alone.

No: Batman will never be able to forget that.

* * *

“Then why didn’t you kiss him back?!” Robin practically screeches at his Bat-dad—and, not for the first time, Batman seriously hates the kid’s lung capacity.

The black-clad vigilante is sitting before his giant computer, claw-hands on the keyboard, and doing nothing else. He has not typed a thing and no commands to ‘puter have actually been issued. He just sits there; frowning.

(It’s what I do!) he thinks  ~~petulantly~~  to himself.

On his left is Alfred, his long time butler and father-figure, and on his right—almost falling into his lap with how much he’s leaning over the chair’s armrest—is Robin, the Boy Wonder and Batman/Bruce Wayne’s accidental son (No; not in  **that**  way; I just didn’t mean to adopt him, okay? I’m still available, ladies~ [finger guns and teeth shines]). Both of them are upset with him; and, if he can be a little honest, he is, too.

The Joker left in  **tears** , for drama’s sake.

“I could have had another dad!” Robin bemoans, voice full of regret that Batman knows  **he**  should be feeling. And he  **is**  feeling it—just not for the same reason. His reason is far worse than—than... (Wait, what?)

“... Another dad??”

Alfred sighs and Robin blinks. The child of the trio wears an expression that insinuates he thinks the idea in his head is obvious and the reason behind the thought perfectly clear; Batman does not agree, however. Alfred, wise and willing, decides to clarify things before they escalate, “Sir... Robin thinks the Joker would be good for you. Romantically.” His raised brow implies he is not 100% in agreement but also very amused and supportive.

Batman’s just means he’s confused, “...  **Romantically**??”

Robin nods, his grin wide and bright, “Yea! Like, as your wife!” As Alfred sighs again and Batman’s jaw drops through the floor, Robin gesticulates wildly in his  ~~poor~~  attempt to explain, “You two can get married, we can be a real family—maybe he’ll let me call him—!”

“But  **I** ’m your dad,” Batman cuts in, brain too overloaded to comprehend the marriage bit just yet ( _as your wife..._ ), “ **Both**  your dads.”

Robin pauses and freezes and deflates just a bit. He then nods, “Well... yea, but...” He frowns. He tries to remember how happy he’d been when he found out about his two dads. He tries to remember the joy of having both Bruce Wayne and Batman— **the**  Batman!—as his two dads. He tries to remember that he was still that happy the day he found out they were actually the same person. He fails at each try, “It’s... just not the same... dads...”

There’s silence; then, Alfred sighs and imparts some wisdom, “In that case, sirs, perhaps the Joker should be the mother...?”

And that’s when Batman has a ~~nother~~  brilliant idea.

* * *

Batman never doubts his ideas.

They’re always perfect and never fail and—he  **swears** —it’s only when Joker is involved that he wonders if they’ll actually work. (The  **ideas**! Of course THEY will  **never**  work! They’re  **ENEMIES** , okay?? ...  **WE are enemies**  is what I meant to say. Think. UGH.)

Where was he?

Right: his idea is perfect. Never mind the copious amount of hours he spent scouring his attic (My actual attic—not the manor; the one  **inside**  the manor.) for the item currently burning a hole in his utility belt. Never mind the ridiculous amount of sweat building upon his brow. Never mind the knowing smirk and far too enthusiastic help from a certain butler and son.

His idea is  **perfect**.

So, when he knocks on the door of the Joker and his Crew’s hideout only to get a glaring hell-fire Harley Quinn, he obviously shows no fear (Seriously: none at all.) and walks straight through the door. When Bane tries to get in his way while cursing his name in Spanish, he still shows no fear. When Clay-face and Doctor Freeze try and stay his feet, there is  **no**  fear.

Nope: he’s just terrified.

There’s a lot that can go wrong with this plan. The item he has could be thrown back in his face. Joker could laugh him into an early grave. His  **crew**  could do the same.

Joker might just refuse—to accept it, accept him, or even see him.

Yea, he’s one terrified piece of Lego; but he’s blooming doing this.

* * *

Joker’s face is surprisingly cold when Batman finally makes it to the clown’s room.

Most of his make up is off or smudged and his eyes are bloodshot. His hair is a mess—one of the most bizarre things Batman has ever seen because it’s  **flat**  [that is: lacking in volume] and that’s just dramatically  **weird**  on the Joker—and there are still tears streaking down his face.

But he’s glaring: glaring with a burning hate and a fiery passion that screams of hurt and betrayal.

It’s literally the worst thing Batman has ever seen—and he  **caused it**.

* * *

Joker sniffs, “What do you want, Guano?”

Batman winces and wonders if that’s his new nickname. (Please, no.) He swallows, nervous under that frigid stare, and quickly finds purchase when his hand unconsciously migrates to the item he brought with him. It’s hiding, encased within a bright yellow pouch, and still burning his belt.

Now it’s burning his face with a blush.

As watery blue eyes blink up at him, Batman suddenly realizes how bizarre this situation is. After literally 78 years of Joker chasing him and him chasing Joker... They’re finally at a standstill.

And it is, quite frankly, the worst thing he has ever experienced.

(This has gotta stop.) Determined now, Batman steels himself and opens the pouch. “Joker,” he starts, not yet pulling out the burning item. “J-bird,” he corrects softly; and a part of him warms when his greatest enemy inhales sharply at the affectionate name.

“... Batman...?”

The lack of  _Batsy_  would have made him flinch if it weren’t such a step up from  **Guano**  (Ugh!). The hesitance and wariness does make him frown, however, so he pulls out the item and clutches it (To make sure I don’t drop it! It is NOT because I’m scared, okay?!) while letting Joker see it.

It’s a black, velvet box smaller than the scoop of his claw-hand.

Joker eyes it curiously, blue eyes just a little brighter and much drier. Batman relaxes and takes a breath to calm himself; then, he continues, “I...” His throat constricts but he forces the words through, anyway, “I didn’t forget.”

Joker just stares up at him with hurt confusion, “Then why did you...?”

Batman flushes, “Because!” He fights the urge to leave it at that and beat the clown until he obeys him. That isn’t going to work this time. Obedience isn’t what he wants. “I... I’ve kissed a lot of people...” he confesses and winces at the sharp intake of breath from the Joker.

The green-haired villain takes a step back.

Batman reach out and grabs his arm, pulling him back, “So I don’t feel my kisses are special.” He swallows, “Not... like yours are...” He pulls Joker closer still; he doesn’t stop until their foreheads are touching and he doesn’t need to force himself to be any louder than a whisper.

Joker listens intently.

“Your kiss was special because it’s not something you’ve ever done before. I know that. You’ve... You mentioned that, once: that you’ve never even kissed Harley because people kept thinking you were...  _loose_  because you flirt a lot. But you aren’t like that. I  **know**  you aren’t. And it’s because I know that...” He swallows again and clutches the little box harder. For a moment, he’s worried he’ll crush it.

Joker’s claw-hand rests lightly on his own—the monster clutching that black box—and Batman relaxes.

“I know my kisses aren’t equivalent to yours.” He lifts his hand and maneuvers it so that he can deposit the box in the clown’s hand. Strangely, the black velvet looks really good in that white gloved claw. He watches as Joker brings the box closer to himself—inspecting it. “And you deserve something as precious as your first kiss on the anniversary of our first meeting.”

Batman would have felt bad for the tears brimming in Joker’s eyes if he didn’t know that they were happy ones and that Joker was actually ready to smile; he just has to give him the reason (And I will—soon.).

“And, at the time, I couldn’t think of anything. There was nothing that came to mind when I asked myself  _what can I give him of equal value_? Even after the kiss... the tears... I’m so sorry, J-Bird.” The hitched breath sounds like a sob and Batman has to wince at that. He isn’t really sure what he should do right now—comforting and emotions still aren’t his thing—so he just awkwardly pats the clown’s shoulder and hopes he calms down.

Joker chokes on a bitter laugh.

“I... ” Having no idea how to segway into what he wants to say, Batman blurts out, “Robin wants you to be his mom!” The hideout fills with gasps as aforementioned child blushes bright red. Blue eyes flicker over in surprise before landing questioningly on Batman again. The illuminated lenses they gaze into stare back hesitantly, “That... That gave me an idea.”

Batman gestures at the box.

“This is something no one knows I have. Not even... Not even the  _Oldman Bat_  knows what this is.” He smirks slightly as he uses the nickname he noticed Joker had started to use for Alfred (when he’s in the 60′s Batman outfit) after the Phantom Zone incident. The clown smirks back, a small blush dusting his features.

“Open it.”

So Joker does. Inside the little, black, velvet box is a bed of red silk holding... “A ring...!” The clown’s mouth—bitten and bloody instead of bright and brimming with red lipstick—drops in shock, blue eyes shining as his brilliant mind forms the connections without Bruce having to say a thing.

“Yes.”

Joker stares up at the Bat, jaw still slack, as the larger man explains, voice booming now because he really and truly is not afraid  ~~any longer~~  [he can already see the answer in Joker’s eyes], “It was given to me by my mother when I was five. It’s the same ring my father used to propose to her: their engagement ring.” Batman realizes he’s nervous, still, even if he isn’t scared  ~~anymore~~ , “She told me...  _When you find someone special, son... Someone you don’t want to loose—ever. Someone you want to spend the rest of your life with—forever. Give them this._

“ _And tell them:_

“I love you.”


End file.
